It was another slowish week in my mailbox but I'm not complaining. I am still up to my eyeballs in books I need to read for one thing or another that not adding to the stacks appreciably is a help! Terrible to have to say that, but true nevertheless.

In any case, this week I found a copy of Now and Then by Jacqueline Sheehan from Avon in my mailbox. Could you just eat up the lovely dog on the cover?! I could also call this one time travel with a dog or how publishers have finally found a way to nudge me into reading speculative fiction (even if this one seems to be speculative fiction lite).

Then I opened a package with a copy of Ruined by Paula Morris in it. Interestingly, it's another one that is outside my usual reading fare, being a ghost story. But somehow ghosts and New Orleans seem right while ghosts anywhere else scare the snot out of me. And if you like ghosts or just think the cover is gorgeous like I do, be sure to check back here on Sept. 7th for a giveaway of this one.

Finally, I found an amazon box on the step and it had several goodies in it. One was a book for a friend's birthday. On the off chance she's reading this I won't mention it aside from saying I already own it myself, which should help her narrow it down given my library of 8,000+ books. Bwahahaha! Next was a book for my kids that I will probably read too. I found it on someone's blog but I can't for the life of me remember whose or I'd credit them with spending my money! The book is Heck: Where the Bad Kids Go by Dale E. Basye and it looks totally cute. Actually, I often wonder if there's an otherworldly reform school to which I can send my crew, especially when they act like demon spawn. Ba-dump-bump. (I'll be performing right here all week just for your reading pleasure.)

Lastly, Bloomsbury kindly sent me a copy of The Private Papers of Eastern Jewel by Maureen Lindley. An historical fiction based on a real life Chinese princess who spied for the Japanese during World War II, could this be more appealing? The early reviews aren't terribly promising but since I am so very frequently a contrariwise little puss, I still have high hopes for this one.

As always, if you want to see what others have received in their mailboxes over the past week, make sure to visit Marcia at The Printed Page where she hosts this weekly meme.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Do you have reading obligations? For most people, the last time they were obliged to read a book was when they were in school. And for many years this was the case for me. I was finished with 120 or so years of schooling (okay, maybe not that many but by the end of it, it certainly felt that way) and I could read what I wanted, when I wanted. But being a lifelong reader, it wasn't as liberating as it sounds. Because I read all the time whether in or out of school and I had generally enjoyed the books I read for school anyway.

I'm not back in school now but my life has changed enough that I now have reading obligations again. I accept books for review and in return I agree to write reviews. That makes them an obligation on my part. Of course, I only request or accept books that I think I will truly enjoy because spending my reading time with something that makes me want to poke myself in the eye with a pointy stick is an unhappy experience. It is unhappy for me and ultimately unhappy for whomever wanted my review as no one loves a negative review. At the moment, I have a large pile of books I need to read and review but I am getting through them slowly and without pulling an all-nighter.

But the review books are a choice I made and one I can back off of at will. Right now, though, I also have a standing obligation for a panel I am on that will be determining the books which will receive our endorsement for National Reading Group Month. Since sometime last month, I have been working my way through the dozen or so books submitted for consideration. I started with the books that were personally most appealing to me based on the jacket copy. Then I worked my way into the books that sounded fine but didn't really call to me. Now I'm at the tail end of the pile and reading those books which I never would have picked up on my own at the bookstore (or having picked them up, would have quickly put them back down). This order is probably not the best as I am starting to get a bit resentful that I have had so little personal pleasure reading during the past two months. Nevermind that quite a few of these would have been books I would have read for pleasure had they not been sent to me for this panel.

I think I am a bit worn out with the obligation of reading and need the chance to wander aimlessly amongst my tbr shelves, pulling a book off, perhaps simply chosen by serendipity, and settle in to read something that I can review or not as I see fit (and I do review everything for my own edification anyway, so...), that might be a terrible choice for a reading group, that might be completely and blissfully superficial, that will be pure pleasure reading. My list of obligated books for this panel is much smaller than the numbers submitted for awards. I really don't know how all the judge's panels do it. For me, it's just about time to sink into the un-obligated for a time.

**And for those worried that my clearly obvious burnout might result in my choosing to only recommend the books I had pre-selected as most appealing to me, you'll be happy to note that I have been more than pleasantly surprised by a few with completely unappealing jacket copy and will be recommending them for inclusion in our final official list of recommendations.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Author Michael Lee West is one of the south’s treasures as she’s shown with her previous works set amongst the live oaks and Spanish moss. Mermaids in the Basement is a worthy addition to her funny and convoluted tales of the modern day south and the resilient (and sometimes off-beat) women who live there.

No blowsy magnolia blossom, screenwriter Renata is down and depressed by her mother and step-father’s unexpected death in a plane crash several months prior to the opening of the story. She has a distant and superficial relationship with her father, who is about to marry a very young trophy wife. Her writer’s block is flaring up even as the latest deadline on a crap screenplay is due. And to cap it all off, she sees a tabloid showing her boyfriend, a successful director, in a clinch with the latest Hollywood “It girl” on location in Ireland. After an unproductive call to boyfriend Ferg, a few too many drinks, a bonfire, and alcohol-inspired Fed-Exing, all of which turn out to have been Bad Ideas, Renata finds a letter from her mother marked to be read only in case of an emergency. This letter drives Renata’s flight to her paternal grandmother’s home in coastal Alabama to find out the truth behind her parents' life together. Once home, matriarch and grande dame Honora, former nanny Gladys, and long-time family friend and former actress Isabelle conspire to help Renata find the steel in her backbone, share the skeletons in the family closet with her, and show her that her future, while anchored on the past, can be made to suit the person she is becoming.

Filled with grand parties, shocking revelations, and more side plots than you can shake a stick at, West has created her trademark eccentric but entirely believable characters and plot. She has a way with the turn of a phrase that sometimes doesn't dawn on the reader until they are a paragraph further on but will still elicit a bark of laughter. This is a snappy, witty, and fun read that sucks you and and doesn't let you go, through both the unconventional, crazy happenings and the more mundane. And it will make you a bit sad you don't have characters like this in your real life, because honey, you know they'd take you for some wild ride. An easy, smooth read, West does tackle some heavier topics than calling this a breezy romantic novel would suggest. And she handles them deftly, not allowing them to destroy the light touch of the whole. This is one I definitely recommend.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

My name is Kristen K. and it's been two months since I last ran. I feel like this should be a confessional since I was pretty good about running consistently for two years straight--I even ran a marathon for pity's sake--but I really fell off the wagon the past two months (and only ran sporadically before that for a few more). For whatever reason, I managed to push past the ennui this morning and get out on the road. I expected to feel good. I mean, I never loved running. Yes, I know, two years of running 5-6 times a week and I never loved running. Chew on that one a bit. But it made me feel good about myself, it helped define who I was, it kept me in shape, and it certainly helped that 60+ pounds come off. And so I ran. But after two months of no running whatsoever, my run this morning reminded me why so many people hate running. Because it didn't make me feel good.

I started off with what I thought were low enough expectations. I was only going to run 3 miles, something I could do in my sleep. Only I can't anymore. And I'm slow. Okay, I've always been slow but I mean now I'm really slow. And I started doing the rhythmic, heavy breathing that made my running coaches down here worry that I was having a heart attack or asthma attack or apoplectic attack or just some kind of garden variety attack when they first met me much sooner than I have in, oh say, two and a half years. If 90% of anything is mental, let me tell you friends, it is 100% hard to mentally push past the disheartening fact of being this out of shape after only two months.

But I pushed and I shoved and I huffed and I puffed and I kept one foot going in front of the other, at least for a while. Like Harry Potter casting his patronus because he knew he could, having watched himself do it before, I've been here before too. The last time I started running (which, incidentally, was the first time I've started running since I went out for track in high school umpty-ump years ago), I was very heavy and out of shape. This time I feel just as out of shape but am luckily not quite as heavy (although I feel compelled to admit I didn't manage to keep off all 60+ lbs.). So I've got that going for me. Last time I ran just under a mile and thought I would die. This time, armed with all the accoutrements and gadgets I've amassed over more than 2 years of running, I ran a mile, walked a half mile, ran a mile, walked a half mile, ran the last tenth of a mile back to my driveway, and thought I would die. A distinct improvement, don't you think?!

As I started out, I discovered that my iPod had been sitting unused for so long that the dratted thing was dead. Or it could be a delayed discovery of permanent death due to drowning as it was one of the things that was on the boat that I sank this summer and I'm just now finding out because, well, I haven't run since before I sank the boat. In any case, no music to take me out of my own head, something that is most disturbing when I run. See, I negotiate with myself, whine, and just generally exude negative thoughts when I run. Trust me though, if you lived in my crazy head full time, you'd want vacations from thought now and again too.

But I went out distractionless and started gasping almost immediately. The humidity down here is frankly appalling. I chose a route mainly in shadow to try to keep the transmission from overheating too soon but that was futile. The good news was that when I darn near trod on a baby snake (and they have poisonous ones down here in the sunny south--although I suspect this one was dead), I had no fluid left in my body with which to wet my pants. There's always a silver lining, don't you know?! The bad thing about the run, aside from the fact that I couldn't run the whole thing when six months ago I could have run it in half the time, blindfolded, was that I miscalculated where my walking portions were going to be. If there was an uphill, that's exactly when I hit the "time to run again" bit and if there was a downhill it was all walking. What kind of nincompoop am I? (This is one of those rhetorical questions for all you smart alecks out there.)

The best part of the run, of course, was finishing and getting to walk into the chilly embrace of the air conditioning. You know you're totally over-heated when the most appealing thing to do once home is to peel off all sweaty clothes and lay down on the cold tile bathroom floor naked as a jaybird. Sorry about that mental image there. I know you all have to go scrub your eyeballs now. But hey, maybe I subconsciously knew this would happen after my run and that's why I didn't run all summer. Paying for the therapy my children would need after witnessing this would preclude college for them. So really, my not running was a fiscally responsible plan! Of course, the fact that they left all the lights on upstairs before heading off to school, forcing me to climb the stairs with angry thigh muscles still firing off twitchy impulses makes me want to force them to endure some nastiness somehow today.

The long and short of today's run is that I loathed it. I felt like crap. I'm gonna hurt like a demon tomorrow and probably even worse the day after. But I'm planning on getting out there again on Saturday morning, pushing through the pain, forcing my whiny self to do what I know I should. And it will get easier again with time. And I'll start to feel good about myself for doing it again too. Maybe I'll even try to train for another long race. But first I'd better try to run the whole 3 miles again. I'll let you know how long it takes to forget why so many people hate to run. But in the meantime, could somebody ask me on Saturday if I really did get out there again?

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Reading at the Beach is hosting A-Z Wednesday where bloggers take the time to highlight one book that starts with the letter of the day. This week is the letter C. How could you not love a meme that has echoes of Sesame Street in it? In any case, I wanted to put the spotlight on Angela Thirkell's Cheerfulness Breaks In.

This particular book is in the middle of the long and lovely series of books written by Thirkell in her imaginary village of Barsetshire. I have yet to read this one myself but I highly recommend the beginning of the series. (I always read in order and haven't reached this one yet.) Thirkell's writing is gorgeous and witty and her social observations are spot on. She deserves a much larger readership than she currently has! For those who enjoy series, the news that this is many, many volumes will be a happy thing. For those who enjoy English village reads, this will suit beautifully. And for those who like a little biting wit, they will find gems scattered throughout these books. I was planning to paste in amazon's description of the book but if you aren't already familiar with the characters, it probably doesn't entice you in any way to hear that this contains "Rose Birkett’s wedding; Geraldine Birkett’s infatuation with Fritz Gissing; and a romance between Octavia Crawley and Tommy Needham." See? I pasted most of it anyway and it probably doesn't call to you to tell you that you must read this book (and the ones prior and following as well) now does it? But you should. You can thank me later.

You want more information before committing? The back of the book is only marginally more informative:

Tears mingle with domestic upheavals as a delightful reunion of Barsetshire characters cavort through Word War II's early days. The antics of London children add to the genteel love affairs and sweet frolics of the English gentry, while the East European refugees bring a new spirit and energy to the peaceful countryside. Text from the Carroll and Graf edition of the book.

And the New York Times cover blurb says: "Extremely funny, high-spirited, capricious, delicately malicious and entirely entertaining." If her previous books in the series are anything to go on, this is spot on. And I've been assured that the books stand up to reading out of order (unless you are colossally obsessive-compulsive like I am).

This post was brought to you by the letter C and the number 2 (can't resist the Sesame Street vibe).

Summer just seems like the proper time to read quirky Southern-set novels, doesn't it? All I'd need is a mint julep and a funeral home fan and I'd be all set although this isn't exactly a mint julep type of book. Rather is is a small town, Bible Belt sort of book.

Higby, Mississippi may not be a hellfire and damnation kind of place but there is a clear demarcation between appropriate and sinful there as the various characters stumble towards redemption. Opening with local police pondering what drives young Clint Cullen to climb the old watertower regularly simply to sit above the town and then having him crash through the rusted railing, landing squarely in a neighboring pool, the reader knows this won't be your garden variety novel. It is people with a large cast of characters, each of whom is facing his or her own challenges, wondering which path to choose.

Stewie Kipp is a born again Christian whose ardent faith is driving away his fiancee, who mourns the good time days they used to spend together. Carmen Valentine is a retiring woman who is working up the courage to actually sit next to the man she'd like to date and whose hobby is crafting with dry spaghetti. Clive's father Oren is a preacher who is struggling with his own faith, with his relationship with Clive, and with his growing attraction to the massage artist whose establishment on the outskirts of town is dodgy. Euless Ludlam is a loyal employee, although a little slow, and is about to inherit a staggering sum of money. Talitha Leigh is all about a good time, whether that means drinking at a bar or going home with nameless men who is rescued/kidnapped one morning by a strange vegan cult intent on offering her a peace in captivity (and re-naming her the very ironic Blithe). And finally Tula Gilmurray keeps losing her beloved brother Hnk, both physically and mentally as he is fogged in the beginning stages of what would appear to be Alzheimer's.

As disparate as the characters seem, they are all intricately intertwined as only folks in a small town can be. Better yet, they are all well-fleshed out and individual characters who make entertaining reading. There is a lot of humor laced throughout this novel about the connections between people and between hearts. Each chapter's epigraph is a Bible verse that relates cleverly and directly to the action in the chapter. Having read Dunn's previous epistolary novel, Ella Minnow Pea, I was delighted to find that his ingenuity continues in new and different ways in this novel. Definitely clever and thoroughly entertaining, this was a delight to read.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Eleni Gage, namesake of the grandmother who was tortured and killed during the Greek civil war and who was immortalised in her father's memoir titled Eleni, decides to take time off of her job and return to her roots. Her goal is to rebuild the original Gatzoyiannis home despite her aunts' certain insistence that she will fall prey to the curse uttered by her grandmother, forbidding family from coming back to Lia, their native village not far from the Albanian border. Willing to brave the curse, Gage returns and embarks on both a family history and the reconstruction of the family home.

This is equal parts travel memoir and family exploration. As in many moving and starting over memoirs, Gage must rely on friendly villagers to help her recreate her family's ancestral home. She runs into the usual delays and bureaucracies as she tries to make a home destined to temper the horrors of the past. Unlike other travel memoir writers, she faces the added challenge of overcoming the terrible memories and distrust engendered by the atrocities of war as she brings the Gatzoyiannis home back to life. While living in Lia and overseeing the reconstruction, Gage has the chance to speak with village elders and learn more about her family from those who knew her grandmother. She makes many friends and brings long forgotten good memories to light through these new cross-generational relationships. She also gets to experience village life, local customs, and Greek culture in a way that so few non-natives do.

In creating this memoir of her year in Lia, Gage also invites us to know the characters in her family and in the village. She has written a book that makes the reader feel as if they too are family. It is interesting and reaffirmed my desire to visit Greece and experience the superstitions and care that she encountered myself. An interesting read, this should appeal to most fans of travel narratives.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Subtitled Those Everyday Objects You Just Can't Name (and Things You Think You Know About, but Don't), this is one of those books filled with the useless but fascinating information that so intrigue me. Simply leafing through the table of contents, I tested my knowledge of the topics covered. Despite the subtitle, those I knew about, I really did know (aglets, contrails, andirons, dewclaw, pediddle, umlaut, and others). But there were enough that I didn't know to keep me dipping into the dictionarty like entries. Did I commit everything to memory? Nope. So I can go back and dip into this book over and over again until these little tidbits of knowledge take up permanent residence in the ole gray matter. Some of the entries are more complete than others but they are all enough to make you a better Balderdash or Dictionary Dabble player. Other word people and those with an interest in the obsure will enjoy this little book as I did.

This meme is hosted by J. Kaye at J. Kaye's Book Blog. This past week has been pretty consumed with back to school and back to sports type errands and events, leaving me little to no time to read or review. But as of tomorrow the short people (and how much longer I'll be able to call them that remains to be seen) around here who so selfishly demand attention will be demanding it from other adults and I can get back to my "me time"--oh and reading and reviewing too. ;-)

Books I completed this week are:

Out Stealing Horses by Per PettersonHowever Tall the Mountain by Awista AyubThe Wedding by Julie GarwoodWhile I'm Falling by Laura MoriartyNo Mad by Sam Moffie

Bookmarks are still living in the middle of:

The Far Pavilions by M.M. KayeThe Big Rock Candy Mountain by Wallace StegnerAs Sure As the Sun by Anna McPartlinA Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains by Isabella BirdAtmospheric Disturbances by Rivka GalchenDivided Lives by Elsa WalshThe Brandons by Angela ThirkellCost by Roxana Robinson

I have 16 books awaiting review. I will eventually get to them. Really! And the good news is that I have a crack memory for books (just ask my local friends). It's a weird talent to have but we all have to have one and remembering books: titles, authors, plots, even covers, etc. is my big talent. So the reviews should be detailed no matter when I get to them.

This was a much subdued week for me on the book acquisitions front. I know I generally don't post books I've bought so you all have no way of knowing but usually my book buying trumps the numbers in the mailbox. Well, this week, I only found two books in my mailbox and I didn't buy a single book. But a much less acquisitive week is a good thing for me right now as I'm scurrying to meet a deadline that seems to be looming suddenly. Anyway, here's what I did find in the mailbox this week:

Lift by Rebecca O'Connor.Sent from the author, this memoir about falconry appeals to the eclectic reader in me. I know nothing about falconry but it strikes me as ultra-cool. And reading about it means I am well out of range of any and all sharp beaks and claws so I'm more than happy to have my mitts on it.

Weekends at Bellevue by Julie HollandA review book won from LibraryThing Early Reviewers, I am always fascinated by first person medical accounts. Perhaps the fact that I was always too squeamish to ever even consider medical school plays into my desire to read about those folks who didn't pass out when it was fetal pig dissection day in high school.

As always, if you'd like to check out the goodies that other people found in their mailboxes, check out The Printed Page where Marcia kindly hosts this meme every week.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Southern fiction is always high on my list of appealing reads. I love the eccentric characters, the enticing settings, and that indefinable something that marks them undeniably as southern. Combined with the cheery and colorful cover, this guaranteed that I would be buying this book for myself. And I am pleased to say that I was not disappointed in it.

Mostly told in the three alternating voices of Louise, her daughter Caroline, and her maid's daughter Missy, this enchanting novel details three very different examples of Southern womanhood.

Louise is a wife and mother struggling with her relationship with her difficult daughter. She is creative and has quite an eye but no outlet for that creativity. She takes on the problems of all of those around her, cantankerous mother-in-law, divorcing friend, and gay son. Over the course of the ten years of the narrative, she learns her own worth and how to best be there for others while still being true to herself.

Caroline is not the typical southern deb in waiting. She is an actress, one who disdains the others at her high school, one who wants to make a difference, one who cannot relate to the mother she finds overly conventional. Like her mother, Caroline learns much about herself throughout the novel, even if she runs away from the south and all that it represents in order to discover it.

Missy is a born again evengelical Christian whose father ran out on her mother and her when she was small. Waiting for him to come back for her and dissatisfied with her life as it is, she looks for her own good works to do. She decides that helping Charles, Louise's son, overcome his homosexuality will be the thing that changes her life. And it is, but not because she succeeds and certainly not in the ways that she expects.

The three main characters will draw the reader in and keep them reading along. The humor made me chuckle repeatedly. And yet White doesn't shy away from controversial topics, treating them fairly and sometimes slyly satirically. This is well written and entertaining and while the ending just tapers off, it is overall a fun slice of southern reading.

Do you remember your college days? Do you remember the soul searching and the agonizing over things that end up having no relevance to your life but seemed so important at the time? Are there bits you'd really rather forget or at least never tell your kids about? This novel is that bit of college.

Beck is the life of the party, the cute, perky one who keeps everyone upbeat and connected. So what happens when she has a breakdown of sorts, falling into and existential funk after watching the eponymous Number 6 on Penn's football team fumble an important play? She wonders how he goes on, owning this mistake made in front of so many, and as she wonders, she spirals downwards herself. Continuing to bar-hop with her friends, she drinks herself into oblivion and randomly hooks up with guys she meets in the bars, even as she manages to pull off stellar grades by writitng last minute treatises of the genius variety.

The sexual escapades, including longing for the guy who is emotionally unavailable to her, and the aimless bar scene might be entertaining for those still in college or just out but those of us who are further past this angst filled time of our lives, visiting again in this novel is painful and wearying. Solar-Tuttle has captured the experience of many college students and the feelings shared by so many as well (even if they were not the partying good-time girl that Beck is) but that doesn't mean that the book is appealing or meaningful. It was quick, light, a tad depressing, and ultimately empty. I can see late teens enjoying this but anyone else probably doesn't want to be reminded of their younger selves, wallowing in self-pity and random, meaninglessness.

About the only thing better than fresh, new notebooks this time of year are the reading lists that my children bring home. They are not, to my sorrow, the readers that I am. And so instead of doing leaps and spins over the reading list, they drag in disconsolately, moaning about the reading they'll have to do for the year. And I humor them because when all is said and done, they are not only quite good readers, but they enjoy it far more than they realize when they are in the midst of it. And really, who cares about them when I so thoroughly love scanning through their lists, collecting up the books, and reading them too! (Yes, I do actually care about them but sometimes I have to just wallow in pleasure and ignore their ridiculous, off-base whining.) Sometimes it makes them fuss about how quickly I read compared to them but in general I think they are pleased I care enough about them to see what they are reading (plus if they have questions on assignments, it comes in handy if I've read the book too). A few gentle leading questions never hurt anyone, right?

So this year I will be diving into Code Talkers by Joseph Bruchac (7th grade) and The Shakespeare Stealer by Gary Blackwood (6th grade) very shortly in order to be able to look over their summer reading assignments. Once I've made my way through those, I will be re-reading The Call of the Wild, reading Crispin, Freak the Mighty, Holes, and the second in the Lightning Thief series (I read the first one last year with the boy and instead of re-reading with the girl, I thought I'd head to book two instead. Such are the pleasures of sixth grade reading. Seventh grade will have me reading The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm, The Jungle Book, and Tangerine, and re-reading The Pearl. I don't have an eighth grader but their list is less interesting to me as I've read almost all of them already. Wonder if I can put in my requests with the eighth grade Language Arts teachers now so they choose more appealing things for next year?

I even remember some of the things I read at their ages. I still have my copy of Lord of the Flies from eighth grade on my shelves. Not that I have ever been able to re-read it, having the horror of Piggy's glasses in the surf assault me every time I've opened it again to try and re-read it. I also still have my ancient copy of Great Expectations from seventh grade. I fell in love with Pip that year (probably helped by the fact that the class ahead of us read it and turned the scene with Pip first meeting Magwich it into a short play--the boy playing Pip was really cute). But cute thespian or not, I have loved all the Dickens I've read since then. Speaking of plays, seventh grade was my first experience of Shakespeare too. As You Like It is still the comedy for which I have the softest spot, even if I didn't get to play Rosalind (which part I did play is long lost in the mists of memory). I have an unabridged Scholastic books copy, from sixth grade, of Jane Eyre sitting on my shelf too. I read that one on my own but since I got it through that wonderful school handout, I'm counting it! I know there were others too during my late elementary, early junior high school years that played an important part not only in my education but in turning me into the person I am today. What more can you ask for from school reading? So my reading is about to take a wild turn back in time with my kids. And I hope that we all run into books that change us, enchant us, teach us, and just generally find enjoyable enough that thirty years from now, my kids will be remembering them as fondly as I remember my old school reading.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

A murderer is stalking prostitutes in Regency England but until Lindsey's brother is accused, this doesn't touch her at all, despite the fact that she is a gossip columnist crusading for higher moral standards at a local newspaper. When her wastrel brother admits that he was with two of the women before they were killed and that he has no alibi for when they actually died, Lindsey springs into action, deciding to use her investigative skills to ferret out the real killer and exonerate her brother. But what she is getting involved in is dangerous. And so her employer and friend asks her strong, silent brother-in-law Thor to watch over Lindsey. Thor is a Viking from a northern island who has very definite ideas about the kind of woman with whom he will eventually settle down. Of course, he and Lindsey already have a relationship marked by acute awareness to each other as well as acute antagonism. Thor definitely doesn't approve of Lindsey's investigations. He thinks he's proved his point when he rescues her from an attempted rape. Not so, of course. As Lindsey comes closer to the killer, she and Thor give in to their mutual attraction but they are still not on the same path for the future. Will they get there before the killer strikes at Lindsey?

Lindsey as a character is a mix of exasperatingly stubborn and naive. She instinctively goes to bat for her brother despite not knowing him terribly well. And her insistence on making excuses for him did get a little old. Certainly she had to maintain her belief in his innocence, but it was overdone here. Thor was fairly stereotypical: strong, silent, muscle-bound, good in bed, etc. There was very little to explain why Lindsey might fall for him beyond the physical, especially as she didn't bother to get to know him before they tumbled into bed together. Just having characters ache to be in each others' arms is not enough. Perhaps the premise was overdone. Perhaps I was just in the wrong mood when I read it, but this book didn't do much for me. Overall, not one I can recommend even for readers of the genre.

Friday, August 21, 2009

As Pride and Prejudice fans the world over know, there is only one Jane Austen and she did not write a follow-up to her beloved novel. So we are left with modern authors trying to take pen in hand (keyboard in fingers just doesn't sound as good, does it?) and explore the world so many of us are loathe to leave once the last page is turned.

This isn't properly a sequel really as it takes on a whole raft of new characters in the persons of Darcy and Lizzie's five daughters but it does include some of the characters from the original. Wait, you say. You think you've read something before about five unmarried daughters, some of whom get into scandals or scrapes. Yes, Aston has tried to mimic the form of the original. However, she has done this to the detriment of the original Austen characters. Darcy and Lizzie have left for a diplomatic posting in Constantinople, leaving the chaperonage of their five daughters to Colonel Fitzwilliam and his wife. This diplomatic posting means that we don't get to see our favorite hero and heroine at all. And amazingly, the Darcy daughters are as silly or flighty or rigid as the Bennet sisters were. Colonel Fitzwilliam is nothing like his character in the original, nor are the other Austen creations.

As an entry into the "following in Austen's footsteps" canon, this is a disappointment. However, if you can read this without connecting it to Pride and Prejudice, this is rather an entertaining story. The Regency setting is well-researched and generally a favorite historical time of mine. The girls are perhaps a bit risque for genteel society but many other Regency-set stories use this same convention to point up the rigidity and hypocrisy of the age. There are some obvious deviations from the parallels to Pride and Prejudice, in the unravelings and outcomes of the scandals but they are generally acceptable and only a little far-fetched. Although I am certainly no Jane Austen purist, I still don't think this will satisfy fans unless they can read this purely as a novel set some 20 years after the setting of Pride and Prejudice and really unrelated in most every way from it.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

The third of the books for my summer book club this summer, I can't even think back to when and where I first heard about this book. It was probably sitting on my desk as a new purchase when I was trying to determine the books and it looked like a likely candidate, having much of what I strive to find in books for the group: not particularly well heard of, looking to contain enough issues to keep us talking for a while, intriguing writing structure, and the added bonus of being about a temporary immigrant from China to Britain. My specialty in graduate school was immigrant literature with a focus on Asian-American lit. And while this is not exactly that beast, it is a kissing cousin of sorts and so I thought it would be perfect to inflict on my unsuspecting group.

Written in the form of dictionary entries musing on unfamiliar English words by Zhuang (call her Z), a young Chinese woman who has come to London to study English for a year, this is tells of immigrant alienation, misunderstandings, and the small and large cultural differences that govern relationships between people from very different countries. Z's sadness and longing for human connection echo throughout her early entries as she tries to understand this very different place in which she finds herself living. She can't even communicate with the Cantonese family living on the other floor of the cheap, marginalized house where she finds a flat.

Then a chance conversation with the man seated next to her at a movie theater leads her to move in with the much older man, eventually falling in love with him. Her English improves and her dictionary entry musings become less pidgeon English and more properly colloquial but the disconnect between cultures remains and perhaps even widens as she comes directly up against the gulf that separates a more open and communal China and the privacy-obsessed, individually focused England. She stops relying on her little Concise Chinese-English Dictionary when she discovers that it lacks so much of what she wants to look up. But no dictionary can possibly detail and explain adequately all the freight of so much of what she learns.

Her English lover remains enigmatic to the reader, as he seems to to Z as well although we Western readers understand him at least slightly better than Z, seeing clearly how her year must end long before she does. His absence as a meaningful character makes Z's lonliness and sense of alienation even greater and her melancholic sorrow is oftentimes palpable during the novel. There are comedic instances to offset the pervading air of sadness though, such as when Z is completely baffled by the inappropriateness of buying and displaying pornographic magazines at her lover's home and when she disinterestedly continues feeding coins into the peep show slot in order to watch more and more of a graphic sex show.

Naive or just culturally unaware, Z doesn't come across as a victim, except, perhaps, during the beginning of her European tour, but she is an excellent tour guide to life as an outsider, one who doesn't speak the language well, doesn't understand the cultural context of things, and has no community to fold into for safety, companionship, and happiness. Her excursions outside the English language institute point out not only attitudes that we take for granted but also shine a non-judgmental but accurate light on those parts of our culture that we allow to flourish only in the seedy alleys and back streets.

I really enjoyed the structure of this novel, finding it to be more than a gimmick. And Guo's mastery in presenting the evolution of Z's language and vocabulary was nothing short of impressive. Z was the only character to receive a thorough handling but that helped to highlight her solitariness, even when living with her aimless lover. There was a feeling of emotional distance in this that is generally less marked in books written by Westerners but which seems in keeping with other Chinese authors I've read (Ha Jin comes to mind as a comparison in tone), even in those who spend time in the West as Guo herself does. I found this a thoughtful book, slow moving and serious, so it may not be for everyone. But as a look at cultural misunderstandings and relationship drift, I thought this was a good read.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

I just opened an e-mail telling me that this blog had been nominated for Most Eclectic Taste for Book Blogger Appreciation Week. My initial response was, "Well, that's about right." My second response was, "Was this the category in which I nominated myself?" The answer is probably. I'm not sure I have a big enough following to have garnered any nominations from others but I'm going with it anyway because I do indeed have wildly eclectic taste. And if I want to delude myself into thinking that someone else out there threw my name into the hat as well, I'm not hurting anyone, right? I don't have any illusions about making the short list for final voting (but be assured I vote for myself every day of the week and twice on Sunday given half a chance!) but it was kind of fun trying to decide which five posts are most representative of my blog and my reading. I know what I came up with. I wonder what you all would have chosen. Don't worry, you can tell me and it's too late to change my picks. So, if you've been reading me for any length of time, what post or posts would you have sent the judges?

Not exactly a cookbook and not exactly a narrative non-fiction account of food lovers, this has aspects of both things in its composition plus charming and appealing illustrations (not of the food but rather the situations). Madison and McFarlin apparently spent years asking people what they eat when they eat alone, even before they came up with the idea of creating this book from the answers. Each chapter ends with recipes culled from the responses and scaled to serve one or at most two people. They look at but don't come to many meaningful conclusions about the differences between how men and women cook for themselves. They offer up the things they think everyone should learn to cook before they are grown. And they discuss the motives behind meals, the themes they ran across amongst solo cooks, and the comfort foods that hark back to childhood.

The stories told in the book started to feel rather repetitive as I read along. And I have not yet tried any of the recipes, although a few piqued my interest. But be warned that the recipes are heavily weighted towards southwestern food (perhaps because they live in NM or perhaps because southwestern fare is fairly easy to cook for one) and they pre-suppose a proximity to a wonderful market in which to obtain fresh and oftentimes tough to find ingredients in so many other corners of the country. Mostly I liked leafing through the book and savouring the quirky illustrations more than actually reading the text. It might inject some needed variety in the menus of someone eating alone though. At the very least, it will be something with which to while away a solitary meal.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Take four college friends (three former roommates and one ex-boyfriend) living what look to be perfect lives about ten years after college, stir in a broken promise, add a dollop of discontent and you have the premise for this novel. Opening with a prologue that takes place after the events in the bulk of the novel, Laura muses on a scene from the main characters' college years that carries the seeds of the big plot driving occurrence within it as each of them reflect on children and their future families.

Years later in Boston, the three former roommates have the lives they might have predicted that night or close to it. But those lives are only perfect on the surface. Laura is a wife and mother whose marriage is stagnant and who feels unappreciated by her mostly absent husband. Elise, a gifted research biologist, is feeling alienated from her partner over the issue of their children, who are biologically Chrissy's but not hers. Jenny is a new mom, having just had the baby she conceived using donor sperm from her old college boyfriend due to her husband's infertility. She is also a pharmaceutical exec contemplating a way to open up new markets for an existing antidepressant. Neil, Jenny's ex, has just moved back to Boston to work on a video game (selling out in his view) and is suddenly obsessed with the baby with whom he promised Jenny zero contact.

Neil shows up outside the church where Jenny's son is being baptised and accidentally runs into Laura. This unplanned meeting brings Neil back into the lives of Laura and Elise in ways that cause them each to examine the foundations of their lives and relationships. And of course, it will also lead Neil back into Laura's life, no matter how tightly she thinks she's secured her life against him.

Shattuck examines our notions of family, and biology in this complicated look at what determines and defines the word parent. There is also the question of what sort of life each of us is entitled to have and whether we are justified in doing whatever is needed to attain that life, regardless of the innocent bystanders who might be hurt.

It is easy to see why the characters are so dissatisfied with their lives given the sense of ennui that pervades the book. The writing keeps the reader at a distance, making it difficult to connect emotionally to any of the characters. Although it is Jenny's decision to have her son using Neil's sperm (he is a known entity and brilliant to boot, if aimless, in her view) and their agreement that he will stay forever out of the child's life that drives the actions of everyone in the book, the brittle Jenny is the least well fleshed out of the characters remaining a bit of an enigma throughout the story.

In general I enjoyed the premise but found the detached feel of the novel to hold me back from complete enjoyment and immersion in the lives of these four. With interesting and thought-provoking themes running through it, this was a decent read so I'd be willing to read more of Shattuck's work in the future.

Monday, August 17, 2009

This meme is hosted by J. Kaye at J. Kaye's Book Blog. I'm back to listing just one week this week. Makes it all that much less impressive, doesn't it? ;-)

Books I completed this week are:

The Secret Diaries of Charlotte Bronte by Syrie JamesSand in My Bra and Other Misadventures edited by Jennifer LeoThe Scenic Route by Binnie KirshenbaumThe Four Corners of the Sky by Michael Malone

Bookmarks are still living in the middle of:

The Far Pavilions by M.M. KayeThe Big Rock Candy Mountain by Wallace StegnerAs Sure As the Sun by Anna McPartlinA Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains by Isabella BirdAtmospheric Disturbances by Rivka GalchenDivided Lives by Elsa WalshThe Brandons by Angela ThirkellOut Stealing Horses by Per Petterson

This was a much subdued week for me on the book acquisitions front. I know I generally don't post books I've bought so you all have no way of knowing but usually my book buying trumps the numbers in the mailbox. Well, this week, I only found two books in my mailbox and I didn't buy a single book. But a much less acquisitive week is a good thing for me right now as I'm scurrying to meet a deadline that seems to be looming suddenly. Anyway, here's what I did find in the mailbox this week:

Ferris Beach by Jill McCorkle.This came from the great folks at Algonquin Books. When I opened the package, I smiled as I pulled the book out. Not because I don't want to read the book (I definitely do). But because I am such a sucker for Algonquin books that I think I already own almost their entire backlist. And yes, this is one that I already own (in hardback no less!). This one is very pretty though and will ensure that I actually read it sooner rather than later.

The Resurrectionist by Jack O'ConnellAnother one that came from the amazing Algonquin Books people, this one is likely to stretch my reading a bit. My husband read the back and thought it would definitely be up his alley, especially the comic book world aspect.

As always, if you'd like to check out the goodies that other people found in their mailboxes, check out The Printed Page where Marcia kindly hosts this meme every week.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Although I have had a lot of reading and reviewing to do this week, I chose to drift around my house aimlessly instead. Should I chalk it up to being in the midst of a book that didn't thrill me to the tips of my toes or is it a general reaction to the malaise that seems to be hitting my kids now that there's just a little over a week left before school starts? Sometimes even reading can't drag me out of my non-action.

So instead of reading, I went school supply shopping. Usually I love this. This year I goggled at the bottom number on the receipt while mentally totting up the scattered sheets lying around the house that have additional school related costs attached to them and looming due dates. Argh! At least the youngest got great pleasure out of his new backpack and has worn it wround for the couple of days since we bought it.

I also took my daughter to be fitted for her very first pair of pointe shoes. It was a very long and involved process as she is apparently hard to fit. On the plus side, I chose well when I married my husband because my daughter's toes are a great shape for pointe (and this definitely didn't come from me). When we finally found a pair that fit her the way they should, she had the chance to go up on pointe for the first time ever. No wobbles, no hesitations, she just went gracefully right up on pointe. Even the woman fitting her (who was a long time dancer herself) noted how well trained she is to be able to pull that off on the first go. Now I just need to sew the elastics and ribbons to the shoes. Oh, and I may have a heart attack if she has a growth spurt any time soon since these shoes are insanely expensive.

I have about a million other errands still to run, all of them costly (remember the gorgeous camera I sank earlier this summer?) but I am trying to put them off as long as possible. In the meantime, I am happily back to reading, having finished the book that was stymieing me last week. Now I just have to get back to the reviewing and catch up on that backlog too!

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Almost fifteen year old Fred's parents are heading for a vacation in Australia which means that they are packing him off to the US to stay with family friends. This doesn't thrill him until he meets Brit, Phil and Julie's daughter, and falls head over heels for her. As the days in the US pass, Fred meets Brit's friends, hears about a very troubling situation that Brit has kept from her parents, fights a bully, catches a special homerun ball at a Braves game, and becomes a true knight in shining armor.

The romance happens quickly with both Fred and Brit jumping in and committing their whole hearts much faster than any sane and cautious person would. But they are teenagers so although I remain a bit skeptical, it works. Fred's school project is equal parts fun and disruptive to the story. Seeing the word differences between the two countries sperated by a common language (George Bernard Shaw) can be entertaining but it sometimes gets a bit old. After the initial explanation, I found it distracting although since I read a lot of British literature, I am already familiar with most of the terms and their counterparts which may not be the case for everyone.

There was a lot going on in the book that wasn't as deeply developed and complex as I would have liked. The conflicts were fairly easily resolved. Fred was a bit too good to be believed. A few flaws wouldn't have gone amiss in his character development. Phil and Julie were perfect television parents: always understanding and wise. And there needed to be a closer editing. When I came to chapter 13 I went back and re-read chapter 12, confused by the repetition and Groundhog Day like repeat. The nitpicker in me would also like to point out that the American anthem, which Fred finds himself humming along to at the baseball game, is called The Star-Spangled Banner, not God Bless America.

Aimed at the YA audience, this might be better for young tweens than teens although the issue of inappropriate and unwanted touching makes that a tougher call. As I am in my dotage, I am clearly not the target audience but my daughter might be and I will probably pass it along to her if she's interested. Overall, I didn't love it and found some problems with it but it was sweet enough and it would probably appeal more to those for whom it was written.

Friday, August 14, 2009

So I'm going out on a date night with my husband for the first time in a long time. OK, so it's really a double date night since our friends are going too but they won't notice if we hold hands and make gaga eyes at each other all night long. ::snort:: Yes, if you really know me, that is so not how date night is going to go. If it gives you any indication how the night will go, here's the lead up to the big evening.

D. is already at the bar of our choice as he had a late meeting there. He calls to say he'll just wait for the other 3 of us to arrive as the bartender is his new best friend and is keeping the beer pouring.

After his phone call, I realize that we are getting perilously close to the time said friends and I have settled upon for departure so I decide to mosey into the shower. I have a grand total of about 10 minutes to get ready.

I am not a makeup kind of girl (I leave that to the tween child) so that cuts down on the time needed to primp. I am also happy as a little clam to walk out the door with wet hair (it's the former swimmer in me, I think). Although a friend once commented that I looked like I was lactating with all the drips from my hair wetting the front of my shirt so perhaps trying to dry it a tiny bit would be a good idea.

I know exactly what I'm going to wear. Keeping in mind that my everyday clothing looks like it could still have Garanimal tags on it, this is a serious decision so it's good that it's already made. Cami on. Blouse on. Jeans not on. Holy moley I gained weight this summer!

I may have to spend the remainder of my 10 minutes struggling into my jeans. Oh good. Wriggling and contorting and turning blue while holding my breath has worked and the jeans are on. Of course, this amount of effort means that the jeans may not be unbuttoned at any time this evening, even for the bathroom, or I'll have to go home naked. Because I am not sure I have enough strength left in my hands to button the darned things up again this decade. Oh, and I already know that the imprint of the back of the button is going to be permanently embossed into the tum fat like a second belly button by the time I peel myself out of these. Pretty.

So now I'm ready to go and the friends are not. I can't sit down (might pop the button) and can barely breathe. But I'm sure dinner is going to be a blast (watching others eat is always fun). And with luck, D. will remember where the heck he parked the car tomorrow morning (he's already asked if it's legal to leave it there overnight). All this excitement and we're likely to be safely tucked back in our beds by 10pm.

Our lives may have changed substantially since college but apparently our date nights are still the same aside from the massive time shift.

A collection of short, humorous essays, I found this when I was cruising the Humor section at the bookstore, a section I rarely venture into. The Atlantic Monthly published the title piece of this book as "among the best writing ever to appear in the 150 years of the magazine" claims the back of this slim book. And once I'd read it (again as I'd seen it on the internet before), I had to agree that it was truly a work of wonder. This and Cursing Mommy were the most hysterical bits in the collection, although I claim to bear no resemblance to the cursing mommy herself (despite the breadth of good Anglo-Saxon words in my childrens' vocabularies). There were a few essays that didn't cause me to crack a smile but overall, this was a fun, quick read, easy to dip into and a nice palate cleanser when reading weightier stuff.

All around the blogging world people are fessing up from whence the last 20 books they reviewed came. Most recently I read this on Beth Fish Reads and I thought it would be an interesting thing to look at myself. Working backwards:

And just out for curiousity's sake, the stats on the next 20 (because that is how many I have finished but not yet reviewed) are:

Books I bought: 15 (but one is another I bought and then received from the publisher)Books sent to me: 6 (see above)

So obviously my stats vary wildly. I don't think I am easier on books I've received than books I bought. In both cases I try to acquire books I will enjoy so in theory you'll read far more complimentary reviews here than the opposite. And some weeks the books may come more from my own stacks and other weeks the books may be a result of my being sent them. Either way I try very hard to maintain objectivity so you all can trust my reviews. Maybe not agree with them, but trust them nevertheless.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

In late 15th century Venice, Luciano, a street urchin is collared by the doge's chef when he tries to steal a pomegranate. With this lucky instance, he is plucked from his hard existence in the streets and apprenticed to the chef. Using the cunning he used to survive on the streets, he soon discovers that there are more secrets and lies in Venice than he ever imagined and that his Master is so much more than he ever dreamed. Meanwhile, rumors circulate in Venice about a book containing no one knows what. Some people believe that it contains the secrets of alchemy. The doge thinks it has the information to cure his syphilis. Luciano is certain that is has a love potion that will make the little novice to whom he has given his heart love him back. People in power are willing to kill to possess the book, offering staggering awards for it. And so amidst the treachery and political manuvering that is Venice, the race to find and possess the book is on.

Caught up in the frenzy surrounding the book, Luciano eavesdrops in the palace, reports to his friends on the street, talks to the novice, and of course, starts to learn to cook. Watching the chef, he learns the importance of food, wondering if the meals that issue from their kitchen are changing the course of history and the fate of Venice. One of Luciano's first private lessons with the chef teaches him about the beauty of an onion, intricate layer upon intricate layer upon intricate layer. This is a beautiful metaphor for both the Venice Newmark has created as well as the story as a whole. As Luciano's apprenticeship continues, he not only learns to cook but to conspire and the grave importance of secrets kept and secrets spilled. Told in relatively short chapters, the reader will want to keep racing to the end of each, eager for the small revelations that will allow another piece of the puzzle about this fabulous, much-coveted book to fall into place.

Told from Luciano's point of view, the characters are fully fleshed out and human. And while the reader can see the pitfalls in certain characters long before Luciano recognizes that not everyone is worthy of his good heart's affection, this serves to illustrate Luciano's character better than had we been told of the traits that make him the perfect apprentice of the chef's. Newmark builds the suspense well and the final denouement is balanced and inevitable. In all honesty, before I got the book, I wasn't too certain this was going to be the book for me but as I continued to read the description, I couldn't escape the tug of intrigue and I am so very glad I didn't! I thoroughly enjoyed this lively historical fiction. I studiously ignored some of the factual inconsistencies (and Newmark addresses some of this in the author's afterword) because after all, this is fiction and allowances for the fantastical do not go amiss. I'd have loved for the chef to cook for me after all those mouth-watering food descriptions. Like the movie Seducing Beauty, this was an appealing, satisfying, and vividly tempting glimpse into the mysteries, politics, and depravities of long ago Venice.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

I read Amy and Isabelle many years ago on the recommendation of a bookseller in Wisconsin. We've lived in several states since Wisconsin but despite enjoying Amy and Isabelle, I never did read another book by Strout (although I faithfully bought them all only to leave them languishing untouched on the shelves). I'm not the world's biggest fan of short stories but if you tell me that they combine to create a novel, I'm much more likely to read the book. And that is how this Pulitzer Prize winner for Fiction was billed.

Set in small town Maine, the reader meets Olive and her husband Henry not long after Henry's retirement. Through them, but mainly through Olive, we come to meet many other people from this small town as well, those who have passed through, those who have returned, and those who never left. Each self-contained chapter shows us a different facet of Olive's life and personality, from how she interacts with a suicidal former student to how others like elderly neighbors at a concert view her from afar. There are no dynamic plot twists here. No real surprises or shocks. Just a common life lived out with all its attendant mysteries and mundanities, misunderstandings, arguments, and shining moments of insight.

An unusual novel structure, this has stories like beads strung on a thin necklace with the character of Olive Kitteridge as the delicate chain holding all of the stories together. And although you might expect otherwise, Olive Kitteridge as a character, does not appear in all of the stories. Sometimes just her reputation is invoked to keep the connection. Strout has invoked a structure that calls to mind a modern day Our Town and she has done it well. Olive may not be the most likeable character, irrascibly obtuse at times and amazingly astute at others, but she is well-drawn and whole, fully believable. Both ordinary and powerful, this collection that makes up a novel is well worth reading.

Thanks to LibraryThing Early Reviewers for the chance to read this one (although I should admit I'd bought it myself before getting the notification as well so a friend lucked out and got a birthday copy).

This is the fourth of memoirist Candida Lawrence's works and yet this is the first that I've heard of her. I suspect that I am not remotely the only one who is unfamiliar with Lawrence's work either. And that's a shame because her work is uncomplicated, deceptively simple, and fascinatingly different.

Rather than a linear memoir, this is a collection of essays that combine to draw a picture of who Candida Lawrence has been throughout her life. The chapter lending its title to the book deals with Lawrence's abduction of her children from their father and the twenty years following this, living new, created lives. The essays span a long life, address painful and sometimes controversial topics, and sometimes obscure more than they enlighten. They are unadorned and matter of fact regardless of the topic they cover. And they invite us into the mind of Lawrence complete with memories, obfuscations, and creativities. This is not a typical memoir although it contains the seeds of Lawrence's life. It is, instead, a look at our times and the way that the political drove the personal. It is a gift to the reader.

The essay format takes a bit of getting used to for readers expecting a traditional memoir format. And as is generally the case with books comprised of essays or seperate pieces, some are stronger than others and one or two that seem unconnected to the rest of the book. Midway through the book, tha chpater entitles Mitterrand's Last Supper baffled me as I read; perhaps I failed to recognize the symbolism. But most of the pieces have a graceful, sparing strength to them and made me glad to have finally made the acquaintance of this writer.

Monday, August 10, 2009

This meme hosted is by J. Kaye at J. Kaye's Book Blog. I know, I know. I promised to have some movement under the "bookmarks are still living in" section and I basically lied. The excuse of the week is that I was on vacation and have now come home to a bunch of review books that have a firm deadline in the middle of next month. And since I want to be invited to be on the panel again next year, I am focused mostly on them. Also, this is more than one week's compilation as I didn't play along while on vacation. Next week will be back to one week at a time.

Books I completed this week are:

Lamentations of the Father by Ian FrazierAcross the Pond by StoryheartPerfect Life by Jessica ShattuckWhat We Eat When We Eat Alone by Deborah Madison and Patrick McFarlinA Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers by Xiaolu GuoMr. Darcy's Daughters by Elizabeth AstonHeart of Courage by Kat MartinNumber Six Fumbles by Rachel Solar-TuttleBound South by Susan Rebecca WhiteThe Whatchamacallit by Danny Danziger and Mark McCrumNorth of Ithaka by Eleni GageWelcome to Higby by Mark DunnMermaids in the Basement by Michael Lee WestThe Rogue and the Rival by Maya RodaleThe Book of Unholy Mischief by Elle NewmarkCornfield Heiress by E.A Strong West Wind by Gail CaldwellThe House on Fortune Street by Margot Livesey

Bookmarks are still living in the middle of:

The Far Pavilions by M.M. KayeThe Big Rock Candy Mountain by Wallace StegnerAs Sure As the Sun by Anna McPartlinA Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains by Isabella BirdAtmospheric Disturbances by Rivka GalchenDivided Lives by Elsa WalshThe Brandons by Angela ThirkellThe Secret Diaries of Charlotte Bronte by Syrie James

Since I was on vacation and had limited access to a computer, I didn't participate in this meme very consistently so this line-up is more than just one week's worth. It was absolutely wiggle-worthy to come home to the towers of books my husband had opened and piled around the kitchen for me. Almost makes the laundry piles and the drudgery of unpacking worth it. Click on the covers for more information on the books. Since there are so many, I'm not going to put my usual commentary about them here. All books were received from their respective publishers except for Literary Lust, which was a contest win from Martina at Virginie Says.

About Me

A voracious reader, fledgling runner, and full time kiddie chauffeur.
If anyone out there wants to send me books for review (oh please don't fro me in that briar patch!), you can contact me at whitreidsmama (at) yahoo (dot) com. If you do write me there, put the blog name in the subject line or I'm liable to send the unread message to spam. My book review policy can be found here.